


Spray

by kittenofdoomage



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Menstruation, Romance, Smut, period fluff, period smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-12
Updated: 2018-07-12
Packaged: 2019-06-09 13:13:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15268245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kittenofdoomage/pseuds/kittenofdoomage
Summary: Having your monthlies blows but Misha really couldn't care less...





	Spray

You groaned and rolled over, clutching your belly. It was horrible, waking up with your period. Well, it was horrible full-stop. The line between waking up with blood soaked pyjama bottoms and stained sheets, and suddenly stopping halfway down the street because it felt like someone pulled a plug out of your vagina, was very thin. You weren’t sure which you preferred.

Misha was already gone for the day, which saved you that mortifying explanation. Growing up with a family of mostly men around you had you trained not to discuss that time of the month with anyone who didn’t have them. Like a taboo subject, you skirted around sex at that time of the month and waved off concern when the nausea and cramps had you in literal tears.

Cleaning up, you hopped in the shower, unashamedly directed the nozzle right at your aching lady parts, leaning back against the cool tiles and sighing in relief. For a few blessed moments, you relaxed, but staying in the shower all day wasn’t an option.

Fresh clothes and an incredibly uncomfortable tampon later, you scrubbed the sheets, wondering if Misha would notice you changing all the linen to black. Black was much easier to keep stain-free.

By lunchtime, the nausea had cooled off but you hadn’t managed to eat even half your breakfast. It felt like a waste when you threw it away - knowing your usual routine, you’d be eating everything in sight at around ten pm.

Collapsing on the couch, you turned on the television, flicking through the channels until you found something that would do for background noise. Picking up your pile of scripts and notes, you started to work, but the noises of the television distracted you.

Who knew that Homeward Bound could still make you cry?

Work forgotten and Ben and Jerry’s opened, it was nearly four in the afternoon when the door to your Vancouver apartment opened and Misha walked in, shaking his hair free of raindrops. You sat up, turning around and feeling guilty at the state of yourself.

“Good afternoon, beautiful!” Misha chirped, walking over and bending to kiss your cheek. “How has your day been?”

“Not very productive,” you admitted, watching him shrug off his wet things. He didn’t stop at the jacket and shoes, stripping right down to his underwear before diving onto the couch beside you. The empty Ben and Jerry’s tub was crushed underneath his weight and he grimaced as he sat back with chocolate smeared across his belly.

“Bad day?” he asked, running his finger through the gooey chocolate, bringing it to his mouth. He sucked it off with his eyes on you and a throb made your pussy clench, reminding you of the tampon shoved up there.

You stood up abruptly, making Misha frown. “Nope,” you replied, popping the “p”. “I have stuff to do -” Your words were cut off as he tackled you around the waist, dragging you into his lap. The chocolate on his stomach smeared even more and you shrieked, trying to escape. “Misha!”

“Come on, I’ve been out since 5 am. I missed you,” he growled, pinning you underneath his body and kissing you breathless. “Hmmm, you taste like fudge.”

“Misha, don’t…” God, you wanted to give in, wanted to let him fuck you but that would be gross and messy and a seriously bad idea. His lips felt so good as he moved along your jaw, his stubble scratching your skin. Your nipples pebbles under your thin shirt, aching against the material. “Mish…”

He stopped, raising his head to look at you. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m just… I’m not in the mood,” you whispered lamely. He looked down, frowning at your hard nipples poking through your top. “It’s cold.” 

“What’s wrong?” he repeated, softer this time and you closed your eyes, your cheeks flaming with embarrassment and suddenly, Misha’s face changed. He pulled back and you knew he’d figured it out; you expected disgust. “Shark week?”

You nodded tightly, opening your eyes to look up at him. A wide grin spread his lips and showed his teeth. “What? It’s gross.”

“It’s beautiful,” he insisted, leaning back down to kiss you again. “And natural. Means your body is fertile and rich.” He groaned the words out, fingers tugging at your shirt and you just about melted underneath him. “Plus, sex helps with the cramps. Or so I’ve been told.”

Your shirt was discarded to the floor and Misha bent his head, sucking one nipple into his mouth as he rolled the other one between his fingers, leaning on his elbows for stability. You moaned and writhed, gasping when he grazed his teeth over the hardened nub.

“Misha, I’ve,” you sucked in a breath, “I’ve got a tampon in, we can’t -” He released your breast with a wet plop, smirking.

“I don’t understand why you think this bothers me,” he chided, kissing down over your belly, hooking his fingers in your pyjama bottoms. “It’s not like you’re leaking acid. It’s just blood.”

You yelped when he snapped the elastic waistband of your pants, slapping at his hands to get him away. “It’ll make a mess,” you reasoned and Misha shrugged.

“Guess I’ll have to fuck you in the shower then,” he shrugged, pulling you to your feet and hoisting you over his shoulder. “Come on!”

Your fists were weak against his back as you half-struggled and half-died-of-laughter, bouncing in his hold as he strode down the hallway to the bathroom. “Misha, put me down!” He laughed loudly, tapping your ass with his hand. “Misha!”

This time, your voice was a high-pitched squeal and Misha stopped by the bathroom door, letting you down and looking very apologetic. You covered your bare breasts with your hands, looking away from him, your cheeks scarlet with shame. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I just don’t know why you don’t want me when you’re on your period.”

“It’s not that I don’t want you,” you replied. “But guys don’t… you just don’t talk about this sort of thing with your boyfriend.”

Misha laughed at that. “You’ve been dating the wrong men, honey,” he informed you, pushing you back against the bathroom door and prying your hands from your boobs. “With your permission,” he kissed your lips firmly yet chastely, “I would like to give you your red wings.”

You blinked, familiar with the term and your eyes went wide. “You’re  _ not _ going down on me,” you ground out, shaking your head.

“Okay, hard limit,” he conceded. “But if we do it in the shower, can I fuck you?”

Thinking it over, you considered saying no but the throbbing in your veins and the sensitivity of your pussy made you lean towards yes. Misha was hard and tenting his boxers, still with a good sized smear of chocolate ice cream on his belly.

“In the shower,” you repeated and he nodded, eyes flashing. “Okay.”

You’d barely got the word out before he was kissing you, cupping your ass in his hands as you fumbled for the bathroom door knob. It pushed open, letting you both stumble in and Misha chuckled, momentarily breaking away to turn the shower on.

He stripped his boxers, cock bouncing free and you licked your lips, sinking to your knees on the plush rug, wrapping your fingers around his dick and pumping him slowly. Misha groaned, tilting his head back, shoulders tensing when you kissed the tip of his length and slid your lips down over his crown.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he groaned, cradling the back of your head and you took him in more, swallowing around him and hollowing your cheeks. “Goddamn, you’re good at that.”

You smiled with your mouth stuffed full, pulling back and looking up at him, wondering if you could get him to cum like this to avoid the embarrassment you were sure was going to follow. But Misha was quicker than you and hauled you to your feet, grinning as he reached over to test the temperature of the water.

“Wait,” you yelped, just as he took your hand. “I’ve… er…”

Misha grinned, kissing the tip of your nose before turning away, respecting that you having to do  _ that _ was something you weren’t about to make a show of. Quickly, you pulled the tampon out, wrapping it in tissue and tossing it into the trash. Clearing your throat, you stood straight and Misha turned back around.

“Warm enough,” he commented, leading you into the cubicle and under the warm spray, sliding the door shut. “C’mere,” he beckoned.

The warm was pleasantly warm and you let Misha coax you underneath it, smiling as his hair instantly flattened under the spray. “Misha!” you squealed when he splashed water at you then cut your complaint short as he kissed you.

His cock was hard against your belly, twitching and throbbing with his arousal. “You’re so sexy,” he whispered, pulling back to look at you. “Even more beautiful when you cum,” he added.

Reaching out, he took the shower head from the bracket and lowered it, sliding it between your bodies to aim to nozzle directly at your pussy. Your legs were spread slightly, enough for the water to splash against your folds and you whimpered at the familiar tingling sensation. Misha flicked the settings for the nozzle and concentrated the spray into an almost jet like pressure.

It hit your clit like a dart on a bullseye and your legs shuddered. Misha looped his arm around you, holding you tightly as you whined loudly, throwing your head back. The climax was swift and desperately needed - intense enough to make your body clench tightly.

“Feel better?” he asked, one eyebrow raised in amusement.

You nodded bonelessly, leaning back against the tiles as he slid down your front, pushing your thighs apart a little more and pressing the shower nozzle so it was almost penetrating you. Before you could protest, his tongue was on your clit and your eyes rolled back.

One hand clung to his hair, the other reaching up towards nothing as you rode his mouth, suddenly not caring about your period or cramps or anything other than Misha’s tongue. He forced a second orgasm from you easily, the sensitivity of your hormone-addled body making you overly responsive.

When he was satisfied, Misha stood, hooking the shower head back onto the bracket and pulling you back underneath the spray, lifting you against the wall. With one swift stroke, he was buried inside you to the hilt and you cried out, bucking at the intense sensation.

“Oh, god,” you managed to choke out and Misha grinned.

“Not right now,” he replied, prompting you to groan before he started to fuck you. His strokes were hard, almost forcing you up the wall with each one. You clung to his shoulders, sliding your hands up slowly to thread them through his hair, dragging him into a deep kiss as you purposefully clenched around him.

You broke away to cry his name like a mantra when you came, feeling him twitch and shudder inside you, his cum filling you to the point of dripping down onto the shower tray.

Your legs gave out and Misha dropped you, panting against your shoulder as he covered, slipping easily from your body. He turned, grabbing the bodywash and the washcloth, moving to wash you down and you smiled, taking it from him when he was done.

Slowly, you washed him down, being gentle with his cock, still at half mast. You slid the soaked cloth over his sac and thighs before returning to his thick shaft. He was getting hard again and you smiled.

“Bed this time?” you asked and Misha nodded, plucking the showerhead free again to rinse you both of suds.

When you were soap free, he turned the spray off, jumping out of the cubicle with water dripping from his body onto the rug. He turned, flashing you a boyish grin as he grabbed a fluffy dark blue towel and tackled you with it, tickling your sides mercilessly until you managed to escape and ran nude to the bedroom.

Misha had the upper hand where it came to speed and chased you, equally wet and dripping, until he caught you around the waist and pinned you to the bed, laughing with you in between kisses. Your heart was pounding as he laid his head on your chest, his cock hardening against your thigh.

“Put the towel underneath you,” Misha whispered, tugging the material from underneath his ass and handing it to you. You shuffled, until it was folded underneath your butt and Misha grinned, slotting his pelvis between your thighs. “I’m gonna fuck you again. Objections?”

“None,” you affirmed, smiling widely as he kissed you firmly, the tip of his cock nudging your folds.

He slid in easily, both of you groaning in tandem. You lifted your legs, wrapping them around his waist as he rocked his hips into you slowly, his hands stroking along the sides of your body. “Have I told you how much I fucking love you?” he asked and you grinned, cupping his face in your hands. “I also love fucking you.”

“Stop talking so much,” you teased, rolling your eyes playfully.

“I can’t help it,” Misha replied, dragging his lips across yours. “Your mouth runs away with me.”

His odd sense of humor always made you giggle and it helped bolster your confidence. Stretching one leg, you rolled so Misha was underneath you, grinning with a slightly manic expression on his face.

“Yeehaw,” he commented, tapping your thigh and you growled in mock frustration. “Now you’re getting it,” he encouraged, his words muffled and then completely cut off as you kissed him, undulating your hips to get just the right amount of friction. Without caring for his pleasure - not that he was missing out - you chased your climax, whimpering happily as you found it, holding yourself with Misha’s cock buried right against your g-spot.

Your entire body throbbed and you fixed your eyes on his, determined to find his finish now you’d had yours. Rolling your hips again, you chuckled at the blissful expression on his face as you rode him.

At least he was quiet now.

With a stuttered cry, he came, pumping thick ropes of cum into your belly and you impaled yourself fully on his shaft, riding your own little crest from the sensation of it.

“I know all the best ways to shut you up,” you quipped as Misha panted, trying to recover. Reaching down, you grabbed one edge of the towel, almost successfully maneuvering yourself off of his dick and onto the bed without making a mess.

Misha lay there, eyes on the ceiling, hand resting over the top of the scrunched bit of towel covering his manhood. “Guess you’re not entirely turned off by period sex then,” he drawled, slinging one arm behind his head as you pottered around the room, putting a pad in your pyjama bottoms before slipping them on.

“Maybe,” you replied shyly, twin spots of red on your cheeks. “It wasn’t so messy.”

He grimaced, looking down. “Speak for yourself; all my mess is on the outside.” He chuckled under his breath, keeping hold of the towel as he got up and jogged to the bathroom. “I’ll be right back!” he called and you smiled, sliding under the covers, leaving your breasts bare. It sucked sleeping with a top on when you were on your period - always getting too friggin’ hot.

A few moments later and Misha returned, still gloriously naked - he never slept with a stitch on - and he climbed under the covers with you, seeking out some deep heated kisses as you got comfortable.

“Tell me you’re not horny again,” you groaned and he laughed, shaking his head.

“I don’t think I’ve got another round in me, to be honest,” he admitted. “I’m a failure as a manly stud.”

You giggled, shaking your head. “You’re a dork.”

“That too,” he agreed. “Now, get some sleep. I’m not due at work tomorrow so you’ve got a willing slave for the entire day.”

“I like the sound of that,” you sighed, letting your eyes fall shut.

*****

Morning brought more cramps.

Misha didn’t have any scenes to shoot and when he woke up to find you in the fetal position, clutching your belly and complaining a demon had taken up residence in your uterus, he didn’t say a word. He got up and disappeared, leaving you to think that the night before had been a dream.

When he reappeared a few moments later, with fresh coffee, toast and a hot water bottle, along with a pack of aspirin, you thought he might be a literal angel.

He got you sat with your food and dosed up before turning the television on and loading Netflix. “So, which Disney film is it going to be?” he asked and you smiled fondly at him.

“You’re all kinds of awesome,” you murmured, reaching over to ruffle his hair. Misha grinned back leaning over to rest his head on your shoulder.

“Hey, if I get to sit in bed with snuggles and Disney once a month, that could only be a win,” he replied and you laughed, shaking your head.

“I wish it were that nice,” you mused and Misha looked up. “My body hates me.”

He was quiet for a moment before he sat up and fixed his eyes on yours. “Well, there’s one way to get a little break from shark week,” he said slowly and you blinked at him, the coffee steaming where you held it halfway to your lips. “How about you let me knock you up?”


End file.
